


A Most Uncommon Courtship

by ReaperWriter



Series: When We Were We [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: 5+1, F/M, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Multi, Pre-Series, White Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-29 19:51:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10142696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReaperWriter/pseuds/ReaperWriter
Summary: The first time Lord Thomas Hamilton met his wife, she'd bloodied her brother's nose in the stable.Or,Five scenes in the courtship of Thomas and Miranda, plus one when everything changes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So the idea of the Hamiltons having a white marriage (one entered into to give cover for one or both members disinterest in sexual relations with the opposite sex) that evolves when they meet James McGraw has been running through my head all through watching season 2. I also like the idea of a Miranda who is good with young people, but who doesn't desire motherhood. So this is what my muse ended up with. Enjoy.

I.

He is ten and she is seven. Thomas walks into their stables to find her punching her older brother and knocking him to the ground. He blinks, nonplused, at the blood streaming from his school mates nose.

“Is everything quite all right?” He pulls out a handkerchief and hands it to Edward, watching him try to stem the flow of blood.

“My fool of a brother insisted that he can perform Latin declension better than I.” The girl winced, wiggling her fingers. “And perhaps he could, if he paid one iota’s attention to our Latin master.”

“Thomas, this is my sister Miranda. The hell spawn.” Edward stands, glaring at the smaller girl. “Miranda, this is Lord Thomas Hamilton.”

“Is that supposed to impress me?” The baron’s daughter arches one adorable eyebrow at him, and Thomas can’t help chuckling.

“No, my lady. It is not.” He sketches a very formal bow. “However, Ed, I believe she has the right of it. You are rubbish at Latin.”

At that, her eyes sparkle, and Thomas can’t help the grin that spreads across her face.

II.

He is seventeen and she is fourteen. She walks into their stables to find him kissing one of the grooms, a quiet boy named Josiah. The poor servant turns grey with fright.

“Please, my lady. Please, don’t say anything to your father.” Thomas smells the faintest hint of urine and realizes the boy has wet himself in fear. It makes his blood ice in his veins.

Miranda shakes her head. “Calm, please, Josiah.” She turns to Thomas. “You have taken liberties with this young man, my lord.”

Thomas feels the heat of the accusation flush his cheeks. “I assure you, Lady Miranda, he is quite willing.”

“And yet he is a servant. If anyone other than I had walked in, you would simply be sent on your way.” She nods toward Josiah, still cowering. “This young man would be flogged within an inch of his life and sent away without references.”

It hasn’t occurred to him before the words leave her smart mouth. Not in the slightest. More than anything in the last few moments, that sinks him into a pit of shame. “Oh.”

“Indeed, oh.” She turns to Josiah. “Go clean yourself up. If anyone asks, a horse pissed on you, all right? And you’ve nothing to fear from me. Just please, be discreet.”

The boy nods, blubbering quick thanks before disappearing. Miranda returns her gaze to him. “In the future, my lord, I do hope you will have a care for those in weaker positions than your own.”

Thomas nods. She gives him not a second glance before she walks away.

 

III.

He is twenty, she is seventeen.

His father has groused at him for months over the need to find an appropriate bride. The idea makes Thomas sick. Every grand ball, every musical performance, every salon, match-making mothers foist their eligible daughters at him. The idea, frankly, appalls him. That act, with a woman.

He knows he is unnatural. He knows the church would condemn him to fire and brimstone in Hell. But he cannot believe that to love is wrong. God is love, after all.

He finds her on the balcony at the Duke of Richmond’s estate, escaping the oppressive heat of the hall inside.

“My lady Miranda.” She looks up at his greeting, her eyes somehow both smiling and sad. “I see you are taking society by storm now that you are out.”

“Indeed, Lord Hamilton.” Her words preface a sardonic chuckle. “Why, I have had three offers already, and we are but a few weeks into the season.”

“My congratulations, then.” He tilts his head. “When will you make the happy announcement?”

“I shan’t.” She raises her eyebrow at him, and suddenly he’s ten years old again. “Three men who want nothing more than a pretty wife who will then be their breeding sow. No, thank you. I’ve refused each of them.”

“A bold choice, my lady. Do you anticipate your brother’s support for life as a spinster then?”

“I anticipate nothing anymore.” Before he can speak again, she disappears in a swirl of skirts back into the press of the ballroom.

IV

His is twenty one and she is eighteen.

Her reputation is becoming a minor scandal in London. Unmarried, seen to flirt and dance as she pleases while refusing perfectly reasonable offers for her hand. And perhaps more scandalously, speaking at salons among men freely, eloquently, and intelligently. The ton says she is too spoiled by education and a lacks father.

Thomas is captivated. She takes her future in hand more freely than most men he knows. She is witty and lovely, and while he still cannot imagine finding joy in the marital act with most women, he thinks she might prove…tolerable.

“Tell me, Lord Hamilton,” she says as they walk through the Royal Gardens during a party at Kew. “Have you read Marcus Aurelius?”

“I have not.” Gesturing to a bench, he waits for nod of assent, and then sits with her. Her chaperone pretends to be inspecting the rose bushes a short distance away.

“I believe you might enjoy him.” She smiles knowingly. “He speaks at length of removing the influences of the world from one’s judgement, and acknowledging that all comes from nature.”

It is a heavily veiled reference, but clear to him, nonetheless. “I think you do not understand the gravity of my situation, my lady. I must marry. The earl expects heirs.”

“And yet, a marriage may not produce them.” She glances to the chaperone and lowers her voice. “A woman may be barren, after all, my lord. Surely you understand enough of my world to know that.”

“I know many young women fear such a fate.” His own voice softens and he leans in, playing the ardent lover. “Indeed, they seem to live in terror of it.”

“Perhaps. But some women would seek the joy of a lover, with none of the desire to be a mother.” She batted her eyes at him. “Have a shocked you, my lord?”

“If all comes from nature, I’d imagine any such desires of a woman would be no less natural than my own.” Taking her hand, he raises it to his lips. “You are a wonder, my lady, but not a shock.”

“I am pleased we understand each other, my lord.” She rises as her chaperone comes closer, tutting at them. “Now, shall we see the topiaries?”

V.

He is twenty two. She is nineteen.

“Good morning, Lord Hamilton. Have you come to see my brother?” Miranda rises and curtseys to him. “I am afraid he has ridden out to see the horse racing.”

“I came to see you, Lady Miranda.” He bows in return. He smiles as she lays aside her book-Cervantes in the original Spanish-and gestures for him to sit by her.

“A rare pleasure, my lord. I greatly enjoyed the salon you held last month.” She sits straight and primly folds her hands on her lap. “What may I do for you today?”

“My father expects me to marry. Soon. And I think you understand me when I say I do not relish the sort of marriage he wishes me to make.” Thomas tries to calm his pounding heart. “As I think you do not relish those your own family expects.”

“That is true, my lord.” She raises that one eyebrow at him. “But if you have a purpose in saying so, speak plain.”

“Plainly, my lady Miranda, I propose we solve two problems in one solution.” Her eyes widen comically, and he chuckles. “I propose we marry each other. We may each take our own joy where we find it, and shall comfort each other in our apparent barrenness. If that might be acceptable.”

“That is a somewhat scandalous proposal, my lord.”

“That is not a no, my lady.” He leans forward, moving to one knee before her and pulling a gold and emerald ring, studded with small diamonds, from his waistcoat. “So, will you do me the very great honor of being my wife?”

Miranda smiles, her eyes moist. “Indeed my lord. I shall.”

“Then please, call me Thomas.”

“Thomas.” His name sounds sweet on his lips.

V+I

He is twenty-eight and she is twenty-five when the Lieutenant enters their lives. The first night after she meets James at the docks, she comes to his room after the house is quiet.

“Come in,” he calls at her knock.

She comes to his bed as she has before. While he has no wish of her as a lover, they are between them devoted friends, and simple physical affection has been an enduring and pleasant surprise of their marriage.

Curling up next to him, she lays her head upon his shoulder. “So he’s the one then.”

“The one?” Thomas sets aside the book he’s been reading next to his carafe of water and glass. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Miranda.”

“The one to come between us.” She twists the ring on her finger. The one that had belonged to his mother. The one that infuriates his father every time he comes to the city.

“Nothing will come between us, Miranda.” But he feels the potential for the lie in his words, even as they leave his mouth.

“I see how you look at him, Thomas.” She smiles. “More than that, I understand it. Underneath that rather starched uniform and naval good form, there’s something primal about him. I’d bed him myself if I could.”

“Oh.” The thought hasn’t occurred to him until now. He’s only met a very few of Miranda’s lovers in passing, but he suppose he sees it. Strong men, capable and virile. It appears he and his wife have a type. “It doesn’t have to, though. Come between us.”

“Doesn’t it?” She looks up at him, and there is real grief in her eyes. They do love each other deeply, in their own fashion. Whatever comes, he can’t fathom a life without Miranda in it.

“Perhaps…” He pauses, thinking of how to frame it. “Perhaps, we let it be James’s choice. But we also give him the option not to make a choice.”

“Oh? We share him?” He watches as she works the idea over in her mind. Then she smiles. “You truly are a man of vision, my love.”

“Let’s hope James shares it.” He presses a kiss to her temple, his fingers playing with the end of her plait. “Sleeping her, darling?”

“Please.”

Smiling, Thomas Hamilton, son of an Earl, leaned over and blew out their candles. Then he settled into the covers and drew his wife into his arms. “Good night, Miranda.”

“Good night, Thomas.”


End file.
